


Vader's Folly

by The_Sithspawn



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:00:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23360584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Sithspawn/pseuds/The_Sithspawn
Summary: An ancient site filled with ancient technologies, of course Dr Aphra can't resist playing around. The result, one Sith Lord with a lot of options.
Relationships: Chelli Lona Aphra & Darth Vader, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 112
Kudos: 302





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Decided to start posting this here. Trying to get back to writing this one and any constructive Feedback would be appreciated :)

_**Prologue:** _

Her arms ached from where she was tied up on the Tuskens' strange triangular wooden frame. Her back ached from where they had beaten her. Her head throbbed from too little food and water.

Shmi Skywalker winced as she tried get into a more comfortable position, but the Tuskens were good at making their prisoners as uncomfortable as possible.

She didn't know how long she'd been here, a few days at least maybe more, already the days were starting to blur into one another.

They would come, feed her, beat her and then leave her alone for a while. Then they would start all over again.

She steeled herself, refusing to cry, to waste water on something useless. Deep down she knew this was a the end, she'd survived for for so long.

She'd been so lucky in her life. The Force had given her Anakin, even being a slave hadn't been that bad, Watto had been a better master than any slave could expect. Then the Jedi had come and freed Anakin. Then Cliegg. He'd freed her from Watto and their life together had almost been idyllic...at least by Tatooine standards.

Shmi held on to the happy memory, immersing herself in it. Together they'd been a family, she'd raised his son-her son now as well. Years had passed, life had been hard but they'd been happy.

...And then the Tusken Raiders had taken her and her world had come crashing down.

This was it. The end. No heroic rescue, no more chances at life.

Just the end.

_It was a good life...but I wish I could have seen Ani, just one more time..._

She sighed, willing away the fantasy, it was never going to happen.

He was happy, he was away from Tatooine, probably a Jedi by now living a life she could only imagine.

A Tusken scream interrupted her melancholy thoughts. She shuddered wondering what evil act they were performing now.

More screams rang in her ears and suddenly she could hear blaster fire as well. An explosion deafened her for a moment and suddenly hope blossomed in her heart. Cliegg and the other Moisture farmers had come for her!

More and more screams came to her ears, and she realised something was wrong, she could hear the pain in the screams. More explosions sounded and she realised whoever was attacking wasn't Cliegg and the other Moisture farmers. Cliegg and the others only had blasters not explosives.

A rustling sound distracted her. She twisted her head towards the door of the tent. She watched as a shrouded figure stepped into the tent and took a look around, not paying any attention to the screams of the Tusken Raiders coming from outside.

Brown eyes met her own and the stranger's mouth twitched into an amused smirk, “I don't know who you are lady, but Lord Vader is really going all out to get you out of here.”

The woman bent down and pulled out a knife from her boot. She approached Shmi and quickly cut her down from the wooden frame she was attached to.

Shmi's legs held out for a second before collapsing but the woman caught her and gently lowered her down to sit on the ground.

“Here,” the woman held out a canteen.

With shaking hands, Shmi took and the canteen and drank deeply deeply. A coughing fit took her and she nearly dropped the canteen.

Strong hands steadied her hands and took the weight of the canteen, “Easy there, I guess you were here for a while then.”

Shmi nodded shakily, “Days ago, I think, I lost count after the first few.”

The woman nodded, “That sucks, Tuskens aren't good hosts, then?” she remarked sardonically.

Shmi started to laugh, but pain jolted her chest with the movement, and the laugh became a little whimper of pain.

“I'll take that as a no.” The woman pulled an injector out of a pocket and injected Shmi. “This will help.”

Relief flooded Shmi's body and she felt the pains of her body start to subside, “Thank you, yes.” She took a deep painless breath and asked, “Who are you?”

The woman smiled a bid toothy grin, “I'm Dr Aphra, archeologist extreme, and activator of ancient technologies at your service,” Aphra said an extravagant wave of her hand.

Shmi frowned and stared at Dr Aphra in confusion at the strange introduction.

The conversation stilled and silence descended. Minutes passed and Shmi frowned something was missing.

It took a minute for her weakened mind to realise what was missing.

The screams had stopped. Silence surrounded the tent.

No wait there was still some noise, she could hear it very slowly getting closer...it was a harsh vesicular breathing, almost like someone using a respirator.

But how and why, would someone on a respirator risk being out here in the middle of Tusken land? In the middle of the dry Tatooine desert?

The sound of the heavy stentorian breathing pulled her attention towards the door of the tent. She expected to see an emancipated small creature standing there being supported and instead a monstrous creature completely covered in black body armour stood there, heavy cape falling from his broad shoulders. His heavy stentorian breathing echoing in the confines of the small tent.

The creature stepped towards Shmi and she flinched back.

“The Tuskens are dead.” boomed the towering monster in black, his tone oozing with arrogance. “You do not have to fear them anymore.” The Black mask stared down at Shmi.

She looked in the eye plates of the mask, she imagined that she could see her fear reflected back at her in the eye plates. “What are you?” she asked in a whisper afraid of the answer and what was possibly in store for her.

The figure stepped back as if stuck and wavered were he stood. “I...am...here to _save_ you.” he said in quiet almost quivering voice. “Aphra, bring her to the speeder now.” he commanded, his voice once more booming. He turned and swept out of the tent without another word.

Shmi mind tried to process what was happening but illumination eluded her.

“ _Fierfek!_ Who in the nine hells of Corellia are you? Did you see him _quiver_? Or hear the _waver_ in his voice?!” Dr Aphra demanded surprise, shock and disbelief written all over her face.

Shmi stared after the monstrous wraith in black, eyes wide with fear and confusion. “I'm Shmi...Shmi Skywalker.”

Aphra blinked...then blinked again, she swore in Huttese then said, “ _Skywalker? ...Skywalker!_ Now this makes even less sense!” she lamented. She shook herself and then put her arm under Shmi's shoulder, “Come on let's get you out of here. It's not good for one's health to keep Lord Vader waiting.”

_Lord Vader? Who is he?_ Thought Shmi.

Shmi then nodded and slowly managed to get her feet with Dr Aphra supporting her.

They walked slowly, cautiously out of the tent. Outside was scene from a nightmare. She found them standing amid the remains of the Tusken village. Tusken corpses littered the entire area, Shmi held back the meager contents of her stomach when she realised that many of the corpses were in _pieces_ , no longer actual bodies but now nothing more than pieces of meat.

Aphra urged her along and slowly they passed amid the carnage towards their destination.

A large speeder stood at the edge of the dead village, the black armoured creature- _Lord Vader?_ He stood there waiting with a dark silver Protocol droid with red optics and an astromech.

Shmi's mind was a confusing mix of thoughts about her monstrous Savior in black with one question at the forefront of her mind.

_Why had he saved her?_


	2. Chapter 1

_**Chapter 1** _

**Outer Rim, four years post the Battle of Yavin**

The world had no name. Or at least none that the Galactic Empire remembered. A primitive agrarian culture inhabited one of the other continents but the smallest continent was uninhabited.

Or at least it was now uninhabited, the remains of some long dead civilization was clustered in one small area. This was the only sign that once long ago the continent hadn't been uninhabited.

Darth Vader strode thought the ruins heading towards the center of the area, Dr Aphra was waiting for him there. Her message for him had been intriguing enough that he'd diverted the _Executor_ from Endor to come here first. She'd discovered some ancient weapon hidden and forgotten here.

He wondered what she had found? What kind of weapon was it? And more importantly, _could he use it against the Emperor?_

Things were coming to a head with the Rebel Alliance, the trap set on Endor would be sprung soon, and when that happened...he would have to deal with Luke.

His hard headed son would have to join him. There was no other option.

Vader wasn't fool enough not to see that Palpatine would replace him in a second with a younger more intact Sith Apprentice, just as he had done to Dooku.

He'd seen the look on Dooku's face when Palpatine had ordered him to kill him. In hindsight, the depth of the betrayal, as Dooku realised just how expendable he really was, was astounding, at least to normal folk. To Sith, this was the norm, and Vader always reminded himself of this. He would not fall into the same trap that Dooku had fallen into.

He neared the center of the ruins, and started to see signs of active restoration of the ruins. He could see droids re-purposed from his secret army walking about and going about jobs he couldn't identify.

One of the droids saw him and approached. It looked like an old Trade Federation B-1 battle droid, but like all the others here the resemblance was only skin deep. They were all updated to modern standards in all regards, but most importantly these B-1 lookalikes were _silent_. They spoke only when they were required to.

The droid saluted smoothly, “My Lord, Dr Aphra is this way sir.” it said in its high reedy voice.

It waited at attention till Vader gave it a curt nod. It turned smoothly and marched forward, the Dark Lord following in tow.

More and more droids appeared as they approached the center of the ruins, they were going about restoring the buildings and doing other innumerable jobs that mattered not to Vader.

They eventually came to a large tower that looked to be at the center of entire settlement, they entered and inside even more droids were going about whatever business Aphra had set for them.

The droid led him to a repaired elevator that quickly took them to the top of the tower. They existed the elevator into a large hall with stacks of machinery spread across the vast space.

Vader couldn't see Aphra anywhere.

A dark silver protocol droid with glowing red optics approached them. “Ah welcome Lord Vader! It's always a pleasure to see you, we always get to terminate humanoids when you arrive!” welcomed the murderous Triple Zero. “We haven't terminated any organics since we reached this planet. And we have such a nice collection of primitives, a mere continent away.”

“Cease your prattling, take me to Dr Aphra.” he commanded irritably with a wave of his hand.

Triple Zero sighed, “Return to your duties.” He said to the B-1 droid, “This way my Lord, she's expecting you.”

A short distance away they found Aphra buried inside a console, with only her feet sticking out, hard at work, and cursing up a storm.

“Dr Aphra, report! What have you discovered here?” demanded Vader.

Her muffled voice answered him, “Can you come back later? I'm a little busy now.”

“Well I never!” exclaimed Triple Zero. He reached out a hand “I'm sure a _little_ electrical shock will make her pay attention, my Lord.”

“Enough. Perhaps you misunderstood me Dr Aphra,” Vader said menacingly, he gestured with a hand, Force grabbing Aphra's body and quickly pulling her out of the console.

“Oooph...” Aphra said in surprise.

She rose into the air and was suspended there upside down at eye level with Lord Vader.

“Or now is good as well.” she said meekly, mentally reviewing what she had done, “Please don't kill me.”

He released his Force grip on Aphra and she fell to the floor with groan of pain.

“Really you couldn't have lowered me gently?” Aphra said with a groan.

Vader controlled his impulse to throttle the demented woman, “I will not ask again, what have you discovered?”

Aphra rose from the floor dusting herself off, “This place, this whole place somehow manipulates reality.” she said simply.

Vader frowned behind his mask, “What does that mean?”

Aphra scratched her head and her forehead wrinkled in confusion, “I'm actually not sure yet, they were using a very obscure dialect of Old Corellian, I'm still having trouble deciphering it. But you're lucky I just finished wring this last bit, once I activate the computers I should have more data to correlate-then I can give you few specifics...I think.”

She worked at the console, the entire thing lit up with a dim light. She continued working tapping away at keys.

Vader watched impatiently as Aphra worked at the console. After a short time the glow, grew stronger. A small rumble started to echo in Vader's ear.

“Ok now things are looking up now,” commented Aphra as she continued to work.

“You have your answers now?” Vader demanded, the rumble slowly growing louder.

“Not in the slightest, just more questions.” Aphra answered in mystification.

“What about the rumbling? Is this your doing?” The rumbling sound was peaking now and constant.

Aphra's head jerked towards Vader, “ _What rumbling?!_ ”

“Are you sure your auditory receptors are functioning correctly, my lord?” Triple Zero asked, his red optics gazing blankly at the Dark Lord.

Vader's head jerked between the two alarmed by their answers. He reached out with the Force just as the rumbling, in a sudden crescendo, reached a deafening peak.

Pain exploded all over his body as the Force exploded into turmoil. Power surged through every neuron of his body overloading all his senses.

He grit his teeth and rode the waves of pain, using it to fuel his connection to the Dark Side, trying to stave off and stay afloat amid the sudden changes in the Force, but the waves continued to intensify exponentially until he could no longer take it.

Vader roared in pain as darkness claimed him.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Consciousness returned slowly to Vader as the Force calmed and once more became placid. The storm that had developed, finally subsiding. Very slowly his overloaded senses began to return to normal. He was numb, blind and deaf, the Force had overloaded everything in him. Eventually, the numbness subsided, his hearing was the first to return to normal.

“...The Rebels may actually give you a medal for killing him, if that is any consolation,” he heard Triple Zero say in a by the way tone.

It took a moment for him to regain his bearings, he realised that he was lying flat out on his back on the ground. He continued to lie there unmoving taking stock of his surroundings, the Force wasn't silent and still roared, though in a much muted sense. His head was spinning with flashes of things too fast to see.

“What would I do with a medal? It's more fun working for him!” cried Aphra in annoyance. The conversation continued on above his head without him.

With an effort he lurched up, staggering to his feet, head still spinning.

“Are you ok? What happened?” Aphra asked.

“What did you do?” Vader demanded angrily, slowly regaining his equilibrium.

“What did I do? I just activated the console, it didn't do anything,” retorted Aphra.

“Obviously it did.” Vader fumed. “The Force is in turmoil. Find out what you did!”

Aphra frowned and shook her head, “Nothing has changed.”

“Check again...now!”

Aphra turned to Triple Zero, “Status reports, all units, now!”

Triple Zero who had been quietly watching the two of them, “Of course, it will be just a minute.” he stood still and communed silently using his internal comm unit to talk to the other droids at the excavation site.

He suddenly jerked and turned to Vader, “The _Executor_ has disappeared from orbit,” pronounced Triple Zero in simple tones, belying the import of the words.

A chill settled in Vader's stomach. _Super Star Destroyers do not just disappear!_

“What do you mean _disappeared_?!” screeched Aphra, “Did the Rebel fleet show up her or something?”

“No mistress, according BT's long range sensors, it was there one moment and the next it was gone, it did not explode or jump to hyperspace.”

The chill condensed into carbonite in Vader's innards. There were too many unknowns here. What had Aphra inadvertently done?

“What did you _do_?” Vader asked again, his voice deadly calm, as the Force finally settled down and became placid again.

“What me? Do? I didn't do a damn thing except turn on the console to get more info about the weapon. Liked you asked for,” exhaled Aphra in exasperation.

“Find out what's happened then...now!” Vader commanded angrily, with the Force now returned to normal, his head had finally stopped spinning.

Aphra pursed her lips, flustered and disturbed, and stepped up to the console she had working on.

“ _Carefully_ ,” added Vader menacingly.

She winced and went about her work.

She worked diligently at the console for a few moments before freezing, “Oops...”

Vader crossed his arms across his broad chest, but didn't say anything. Behind his mask, he frowned as he felt shock and disbelief rolling off Aphra in waves.

“Wait...this can't be right...” he fingers flew across the keys on the console, “We need to get to my ship, I _need_ to verify this, because this is impossible.”

“What have you done?” Vader demanded again, the tone of his voice offering dire consequences if she did not answer him properly this time.

She turned to face Vader, her face white with shock, “If this correct we've traveled...back in time.”

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Vader stared at the Holonet display in disbelief, unmoving and in shock, as he watched Padmé- _his Padmé,_ vibrant, powerful and very much alive, addressed the Republic Senate. The words didn't register in his mind, her strong voice causing an ache in his body, harkening back to old days long gone and buried in his battle scarred psyche.

Vader and Aphra stood inside the new, heavily modified and enhanced, _Ark Angel 3._ The first two iterations of the Ark Angel had been destroyed and this third one had been a gift from Vader for services rendered.

They stood now, in a special secured communication suite in the ship's belly, that also doubled as a small private study. Half the room was given over to the most advanced communication gear Aphra could get her hands on, while the other half had a workbench and comfortable chair. The bench with littered with various technological gadgets.

Padmé finished speaking and _Chancellor_ Palpatine appeared on the screen, his voice gracious and open.

“This _really_ isn't right,” said Dr Aphra in very shocked voice, eyes wide with shock and face so pale she almost appeared to be an albino, “This is down right _impossible_ ”.

Padmé's previous words finally registered in his fugue stated mind, and all of his thought processes came to a crashing halt.

She had been talking about the rising issue of separatism being championed by the former Jedi Master, Count Dooku, that was plaguing the Republic. If he remembered correctly, then this was several weeks before the assassination attempt on the landing platform, that had killed her loyal Handmaiden, Cordé.

Ideas, plans and previously unfeasible possibilities appeared in Vader's mind and the enormity of the situation they were in, finally registered.

“Leave me!” he boomed, “leave...now!”.

Aphra gave him a look, but this time sensed that any banter might be extra hazardous to her health today.

Quickly she left the suite, leaving Vader alone with his suddenly awakened imagination.

There was chair with armrests behind Aphra's workbench, once he was alone, he numbly walked towards it and flopped into it.

He sat there for five minutes, one thought repeating in his mind. He was unable to think of anything else...and all the possibilities that stemmed from this thought.

_She's alive. Padmé's alive._

He gripped the armrests with both arms, he did not realise how hard he was holding on, until they started to splinter in his hands.

He looked down at his hands in surprise, holding the splintered remains of the arm rests. The black gauntlets covering his prosthetic hands. He dropped the remains to the floor and stared at his hands. He opened and closed them as if he was seeing them for the first time. The pain of losing them on both occasions came roaring back at him. Geonosis and Mustafar. So much pain associated with those two places.

Suddenly old thoughts plagued his mind, so many old choices and actions. Each with horrific consequences unbeknownst to him till he was completely trapped. All leading up to where he had been. All leading to Palpatine. The formation of the Empire. To his ascension as Dark Lord of the Sith.

He'd been trapped for so long, he'd forgotten he'd been in a cage. Luke's appearance had shown him the bars again, but he'd still been trapped.

No choices. No options. Darkness and loss at each turn. More self-loathing with each turn.

Serve his master _or die_.

Deliver his son to his master _or die_.

Deliver his son to his master _and die_.

Deliver his son to his master and _watch Luke die_.

But now suddenly, the bars were gone. He was a free agent, an unknown element that nobody would or could see coming.

He could save Padmé, _change everything_.

He had to think this through, no impatience here, no rash moves. He had to be _subtle_.

For Padmé to live, Palpatine had to die.

_**Palpatine dies, Padmé lives.** _

Vader nodded slowly, he needed a plan. Most importantly he needed Palpatine off balance till he was ready to strike.

Vader grabbed a datapad off Aphra's workbench and started tapping away. The beginnings of a plan coming together.

He would not fail her this time.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Vader stared at the datapad, the beginning of a list in front of him:

Palpatine

Kinman Doriana

Sate Pestage

Armand Isard

Wilhuff Tarkin

Count Dooku

Zam Wesell

Jango Fett

Durge

Cad Bane

Darth Maul

Mother Talzin

General Grievous

Poggle the Lesser

Nute Gunray

Shu Mai

Wat Tambour

San Hill

Rush Clovis

Savage Oppress

Asajj Ventress

Most of these needed to die, some needed to die screaming, but not all. The bounty hunters could be bought, and could in fact prove to be valuable agents, with the exception of Durge. The insane Gen'Dai would not be dependable. But he needed credits for this, where to get the credits? Perhaps Aphra had some ideas about that.

He skipped ahead, choosing to come back to that point later.

He paused at Ventress's name and tapped it slowly. Could he co-opt her? She was very much in the same boat as him, used by both Palpatine and Dooku and then discarded. She could be a useful minion.

He smiled at the irony of possibly making Ventress, _his_ apprentice.

They would all have to be dealt with in one manner or another before he confronted Palpatine. But they were not his first concern. There was one event he could and _would_ change first.

He rose from behind the desk, he could feel Aphra sitting listlessly in the cockpit. He strode there quickly.

“Dr Aphra! Prepare your ship, we are leaving this world,” he boomed.

“Yeah? And where are we going?” Aphra's brown eyes glinted with uncertainty. The reality and full implications of their impossible situation still not fully realised.

“Tatooine.”


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Vader guided the speeder over old familiar dunes, the yellow landscape passing by in a blur, he remembered the path, he remembered the pain that had wracked his body the last time he had come this way, back when he was still Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Padawan.

It wasn't that different this time, pain still wracked his body, not of loss this time but of sadness, almost despair. The last time he had been ferrying the corpse of his mother back to the farm she had called home.

This time she was alive, she wasn't well, but she would survive.

He should have been ecstatic, he had dreamed for decades of doing this, of undoing the past and yet....his mother was alive and the Sand People were dead! But he wasn't ecstatic, the heartfelt reunion he expected had been shattered when she recoiled at his mere presence. The fear he had seen in so many others, he had seen reflected in his mother's eyes.

She'd seen the monster in him, she couldn't know the monster was her son. She couldn't see the kind, caring innocent boy in the dark towering monster in black.

He growled silently, and used the dark thoughts to fuel his power, to strengthen and steel himself for what he knew would come.

For what he was planning.

xoxoxoxoxxoxoxoxoxxoxox

As they approached the moisture farm. Aphra realised this was _that_ farm. The boy's farm. The boy that destroyed the Death Star. The destroyed farm.

“This mystery is going to kill me isn't it?” she muttered to herself.

As they drew up near to the main house, she watched as figures appeared out of the house. A young man and woman came out and behind them floated out an old man in a hover chair. All were in the simple drab worn tunics and pants of working moisture farmers.

The speeder came to a complete stop, “Help her out,” commanded Vader.

“Sure, whatever you say.” gingerly Aphra turned to a resting Shmi, “Come on, we've arrived,” she told Shmi, gently shaking her awake.

Shmi opened her eyes, and blinked tiredly, “Where are we?” she managed to croak out.

“A moisture farm,” Aphra simply stated.

Shmi perked up, brushing sleep from her eyes at this and started moving more swiftly despite her injuries and in short order they were hobbling along towards the main house.

The young man was the first to get a good look at them. He froze for a second, shock and joy appearing on his hard face, before he let out a bellow of joy and screamed, “MOM!”

He raced forward and in short order was at Shmi's other side helping to support her as they continued to move towards the main house. As he aided them across the sands, Aphra could hear them, chattering almost incoherent with joy.

And suddenly Aphra realised...the farm was Shmi's home.

A whole litany of of the most obscene swear words in ten languages echoed in Aphra's mind, the _farm_ was Shmi's home? The destroyed farm was Shmi's home? What in the name of the of the nine hells of Corellia was Vader playing at? How was this significant to his plans for Galactic domination?

The others reached them and the joyous chattering increased, Aphra tuned it out lost in the surprises Vader seemed to keep heaping on her. Shmi let go of the man and Aphra, stepping forward to collapse into the old man's lap, the hover chair dipped slightly but stayed afloat. They embraced and Shmi seemed to be trembling as she held on to the old man. They kissed and Aphra lost interest in the watching them further.

Her mind turned back to the mystery surrounding this place and Vader. _Why was it so important to the Dark Lord of the Sith?_ There were too many connections to the rebels, but there were _none_ to Vader...

So lost in her thoughts was she, that at first she didn't realise that they were talking to her now.

“What?” she asked.

It was the grizzled old man, he was the one talking to her, “Who are you? Why did you do this?” he asked his voice trembling with emotion as he held Shmi in his arms.

Aphra shrugged, “I was just doing what the boss ordered me to.”

The man frowned, “I don't understand. I'm Cliegg Lars, this is my farm, I don't know why you helped Shmi, but you'll always be welcome here, because of this.” he paused a second looking back at the speeder, spying a movement behind the dark windshield, “Your boss is in the speeder, right? Please, you're both welcome in our home. You saved Shmi, at least come rest for a while, I insist.”

The image of her _and Vader_ spending time, and sitting with this very basic and simple family, just added to the incongruity of the situation, she snorted “Yeah the odds of this happening are...”

She stopped as she saw the family looking behind here. She turned and much to her surprise, saw Vader striding unhurriedly towards them.

He hesitated as he neared them, his steps faltering, but then his stride became more certain.

The joyous moment of reunion with Shmi paused as the family stared up at the Dark Lord in fear.

He reached them and the only sound between them was Vader's stentorian breathing.

“It would be impolite to refuse them,” Vader said evenly after the moment had stretched out to minutes.

Cliegg stared up armoured being, unable to find his tongue.

“Then...come on in,” Shmi said evenly steeling herself and reminding herself that they had saved her from the Sand People. If he had meant her harm he could have left her with the Sand People.

She stared up at the black emotionless mask without flinching this time.

Aphra stared between them, then shrugged, “What the hell, we've got time...I think.”

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Slowly, he rose from his bed, for the first time in a while he felt well rested. He'd slept soundly last night.

Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Padawan, sat on the edge of his bed and frowned, in confusion, but not unhappily. He'd dreamed of his mother again last night...but she hadn't been in pain, the pain was gone and she seemed happy, but....

But there had been a shadow around her, black and oily, menacing and corrupting, but...it had seemed to be _protecting_ her.

It didn't make sense, who and what would be protecting her? What was this darkness?

Maybe it had to do with whatever had the Council looking over its metaphorical shoulder?

They'd all felt it days ago, the sudden disturbance in the Force, something had happened

He shook his head, it was absurd, how could his mother be connected to a disturbance in the Force?

His comm starting buzzing, and he reached for it and answered it.

“Good you're awake, Anakin, the Council has a mission for us,” came Obi-Wan's calm voice over the comm.

Anakin nodded glad to have a new mission to distract him, “Yes Master, where are we going now?”

“For now we're staying on Coruscant, after the recent assassination attempt on her, we'll be acting as bodyguards for Senator Amidala.” Obi-Wan stated simply.

Anakin felt his heart speed up, and he smiled remembering happily his old friend, the young girl he had met on Tatooine, though his happiness was tempered by the reason they were meeting again-the danger she was in.

“I'll come immediately!” he answered immediately, jumping out of bed and heading to the refresher.

“Calm down my young padawan, we still have time enough for breakfast. Take your time to prepare and then meet me in the speeder bay.” Obi-wan said with a chuckle.

Chagrined Anakin answered in a meek tone, “Yes master.”

Obi-wan closed the link with another small chuckle and Anakin resumed his morning routine, thoughts of his mother and his dream replaced with thoughts of the beautiful girl he once knew and would know again.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

The absurdity of it all was causing her cognitive dissonance.

Aphra was sat at a table in a moisture farm, with Darth Vader, sitting next her, the Lars family were in the other room leaving them momentarily alone, Owen was preparing a small meal for them while Beru and Cliegg were seeing to Shmi.

Aphra stole a glance at Vader, “So I have to ask, how are you going to eat through your mask?” she asked the Dark Lord.

Vader turned to stare at her.

“I mean, you're not going to take the mask off right? You can't without a hyperbaric chamber right?” she continued only slightly daunted by his stare.

Vader stared a moment before shrugging, “It is unimportant.” he said but didn't elaborate.

“Ok then, how is all this going to help with whatever plan you're concocting? How are these farmers going to help us?” she asked.

“They are not. They are not relevant now. But this was...important,” Vader admitted.

Aphra blinked, _what the hell? Important?_ “How in all the Hells of Corellia is this important? We still have several more pressing issues we have to deal with. Money being the first among them, you don't have even a fraction of the resources that you usually command! The Empire doesn't exist yet, you don't have the might of the Imperial Fleet to call on here.” she reminded him.

“But this world is also home to Jabba the Hutt, that loathsome worm has all the money we could need, at least for now,” Vader retorted simply.

Aphra blinked, “And when the Hutt Cartels retaliate for such a brazen attack?”

“Who will they retaliate against? No survivors and a few destroyed droids from our forces that will lead them to conclude that it was the Trade Federation, not us,” Vader explained. “Or have you forgotten that our droids are merely updated versions of those that serve the Trade Federation?”

“You want to _frame_ the Trade Federation? You want to see it destroyed? Because that's what the Hutts will do. They'll go to war for this,” Aphra said surprise.

“The Federation will burn and die,” Vader replied nonchalantly.

Aphra ran this through her mind, along with everything else that had happened and what little Vader had let slip so far.

_Nope. Nothing._ She thought to herself,  _Everything's still as clear as mud._ She had another piece of the puzzle that was Vader's hidden plan and still nothing made sense.

“Signal Triple Zero, tell him to prep an assault force for our mission, We'll go, after we're finished here.” Vader ordered.

Aphra silently reached for comm link and began giving orders to Triple Zero.

After that a contemplative Aphra sat back imaging the irony of what Vader was planning and how sweet it would feel to take from Jabba the Hutt and stick it to the Trade Federation. The Hutt Cartels would retaliate but in the wrong direction and it would cause chaos.

She smiled to herself at the sweetness of the plan. It was going to be fun. It didn't make any sense, but it would be amusing till she finally figured out Vader's plan.

Now, all that was left was to survive the coming meal without the surreality of it killing her.

Aphra sat back in her chair and stared at Vader's helmet, whatever was going inside of it...it was probably going to get her killed.

But at least it would be fun while it lasted.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

The blazing twin suns of Tatooine burned the top of the Klatooinian Captain, Umpaza Z'lag's head, as the airspeeder convoy raced to Jabba the Hutt's palace. Z'lag and his men had been dealing with business in Mos Eisley when he'd revived the call, a minor disagreement with a local gang that had delusions of facing off against the might of Jabba the Hutt.

He and his men had dealt with them quickly and publicly for daring to defy the Hutt. It hadn't taken long and he and his men had planned to spend the rest of day just relaxing in the cantinas of Mos Eisley.

At least that had been the plan, several hours in he'd received a curt message from Barada of all people. One that had ended in an explosion and Barada's cut off scream. Z'lag had also heard the unmistakable sound of blaster fire in the background. A lot of blaster fire.

That had been enough and with an alacrity that he didn't know he possessed, he started rounding up all of Jabba's people that he could find, any thug or gun for hire that worked for the Hutt that he came across he pulled into his party.

That had been 5 hours ago.

Five agonizing hours since the distress call had come from Barada.

And every moment since he had failed to contact anyone that should have been in the palace.

Ten airspeeders filled with thugs and killers now neared the palace. Other Klatooinians, Niktos, Weequays and a smattering of other species. All his men. All hardened thugs, armed to the teeth and looking for trouble.

They came within sight of the palace, and Z'lag felt his spine stiffen with disbelief as he saw smoke rising from the palace, the dome of palace was cracked and part of it had collapsed in.

“Faster! We have to get there now!” he screamed at the pilot.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

He sniffed the air, the scent of blood filled his nostrils.

It was a charnel house, the dead filled the halls, everywhere throughout the palace.

Whoever had been here and done this, they'd shown no mercy to anyone in the palace. Guards, visitors servants, slaves...even the strange brain spiders of the B'omarr monks, all had been slaughtered and left where they fell.

The Palace gates had been blasted open with high explosives, and apart from the bodies, there were no survivors.

The main hall had been filled with dead thugs and others he'd known

But there where no bodies indicating who the attackers were.

Nor was there any sign of their boss.

The sight of dead Hutt was not something easily missed.

He shook his head and motioned his men forward and down the twisting corridors that led to Jabba's personal apartments.

He rounded a corner and found himself staring into the flinty eyes of Ephant Mon...and the barrel of of large blaster rifle.

“Sir!” Z'lag practically collapsed in relief at seeing his boss. The Chevin was Jabba's head of security and would be in charge of this mess!

Ephant Mon lowered his rifle, “Z'lag, what happened here?”

“I don't know sir! I got a panicked comm call from Barada. I rounded up the boys and rushed here!” he blurted out.

Ephant Mon's long face remained impassive, “Barada's dead, saw what's left of him downstairs, the speeder pool's a mess. Barely managed to open the speeder doors to get in. Lots of Blast damage. Lots of explosives were used there.”

“Same with the gate, blasted open,” commented Z'lag

“What about Jabba?” Ephant Mon asked.

Z'lag shook his head, “No sign of the boss.”

Ephant Mon grunted and motioned the men to the direction Jabba's apartments.

Z'lag nodded and took point. He picked his way through the bodies that littered the corridor and together they continued searching for any signs of Jabba.

Eventually as they neared the apartments they found Jabba's hoversled.

Blackened and baster scored, it was surrounded by dead guards. A slime trail led away from it and to the door of what remained of Jabba's personal apartments.

_Remained_ being the operative and properly descriptive word to describe what was left there.

Z'lag had seen damage like this before. When he'd used a thermal detonator to bring down a rival gang's spice warehouse.

He looked to Ephant and recoiled. The normally impassive and quiet Chevin had rage written all over his long face.

“Go through _everything_! I want to know who did this!” screamed Ephant Mon.

Z'lag and his men rushed to obey.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

A makeshift command area was set up in front of the blasted out gates of the palace. Ephant Mon stood at the center of it all and supervised the search of the palace with Z'lag's help.

The search thought he rubble and the bodies continued.

A couple of hours later, one of the men dragged the remains of a droid to the command area and threw it down at Ephant Mon's feet.

The Chevin stared at it for a moment with nary a reaction at first, before his eyes darkened and his hands curled into fists, he started to shake with rage.

“It's a Trade Federation battle droid!”

Skirmishes between the Trade Federation and the Hutts happened from time to time, but never on this scale, at least never to Z'lag's knowledge.

The last person suicidal enough to attack the Hutts en mass like this was Zim the Despot...and the whole galaxy remembered just how badly that went for him.

He stared towards the devasted palace and then back at the enraged Chevin. Pity, that was all he felt, pity for Trade Federation and the hell that would be unleashed because of this.

The Chevin growled dangerously, “This is war.”

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Screams echoed through the Ark Angel 3, Aphra sighed, “The smell is never coming out is it?” she lamented quietly to herself as she passed by the small part of her ship that Triple Zero had claimed for his _debriefing_ of Jabba the Hutt.

The last time she'd looked in on the Protocol droid he'd handed her a datapad filled with the assets and bank accounts he'd managed to pull from the Hutt and now belonged to Vader.

Unfortunately, the pad had come with the smell of slime and other body fluids that come from the Hutt. Apparently Hutts smelled worse on the inside than the out as well...who knew?

And the smell was spreading.

She foresaw a major airing at the next port they visited.

She nodded, _have to remember to bribe the dock hands extra for that._

She shook her head, collecting herself, _okay, money, no longer an issue. We're rolling in the credits now. What next in the maddeningly vague plan of Vader's?_

She sighed again, _at least it's fun_. She repeated to herself. Those words were fast becoming a reassuring mantra.

She continued walking down the corridor heading towards Vader's sanctum; formerly _her_ sanctum.

She knocked on the door and entered, as usual she found Vader sitting at her desk. Though it was a lot more messier than she liked, datapads strewn all over the desk.

She gingerly passed the datapad to Vader, holding it between thumb and forefinger.

“It's all good news, mission accomplished.” Aphra reported with a smile.

“Excellent, go I will summon you when I need you.” Vader dismissed her, taking the datapad adding it the piles in front of him.

“Sure, ok, don't tell me what our next step is.”

Vader ignored her as he went back to the report he had been reading, paying her no more attention.

“Fine, I'll just go and force Triple Zero to clean up his mess.” she said with a sigh.

She left the Dark Lord alone with his thoughts.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

_Stage one complete_

Vader smiled as he went through Triple Zero's report. The initial funds transfer and hiding of the credits were ongoing now, thanks to Bee tee and Triple Zero. The efficient droids was going out of their way to hide the final accounts but the _hidden_ path most definitely passed though major Trade Federation interests by way of the Banking Guild.

And as an extra bonus, a certain banker would be implicated as well.

Vader mentally went over his list.

_Dooku_

He will be the first to pay for all he's done. And will do.

Vader smiled evilly behind his mask.

_On to Stage two...Geonosis._

He'd always hated that planet. Too much sand, and much too like Tatooine for his liking, but this time he had a feeling he would enjoy this visit there.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxxooxoxoxoxoox

On Geonosis, plans continued to unfold unaware of the turmoil that had been born on Tatooine or Vader's further machinations. Deep within Archduke Poggle the Lesser's fortress, in an opulent office, a holopad flickered to life and Darth Sidious, shrouded as usual appeared before Count Dooku.

The Count knelt and bowed his head in submission to his master.

“The assassins have failed, master.” Dooku reported simply. “Senator Amidala still lives and will appear before the Senate.”

“Rise my friend, it is of no consequence, they have served their purpose,” Sidious nodded sagely.

Dooku rose and frowned, his mind going through the possible ramifications of a failed assassination attempt on the senator, “You did not want her dead?”

“Not yet, she still has a part to play,” retorted Sidious.

“But Master-”

Sidious waved away the comment before Dooku could finish.

“It matters not now. Remain on Geonosis and prepare. War is coming.” Sidious proclaimed gleefully.

Dooku bowed his head, “Yes, my master.”


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The stay on Naboo was meant to be a peaceful and quiet _and_ most importantly, out of the way of galactic events.

And it was.

The balcony of the lake house overlooking the lake was a scene of quiet idyllic beauty. Everything that he never had while growing up. Clean, tidy, majestic and peaceful. The only sound to be heard was the quiet lapping of the water against the balcony.

The peacefulness of it should have been helping him mediate. But it was unhelpful. A Jedi was supposed to be calm and collected.

_There is no Emotion, there is Peace._

He repeated the first line of the Jedi Code, over and over to himself as he tried to meditate. But it was useless.

The same dream was plaguing him. It gnawed at his psyche whenever he closed his eyes. The screams of his mother still chilled his soul, the pain he felt from her scared him. It scared him to think that something bad had happened to her.

The relief he'd felt when her pain had diminished was only momentary as he'd finally realised what the black oily thing from his dreams was. The black oily thing had quieted his mother's pain.

It was the Dark Side of the Force.

The more he'd thought of it and looked at it, the more he'd seen that it was Dark Side. And it was powerful. Why would the the Dark Side be protecting his mother?

He was terrified now. What or _who_ was around her now? What happened to still her pain?! And how was the Dark Side involved?!

He took a deep calming breath and tried to still his broiling emotions that he as a Jedi wasn't supposed to have.

“Don't go,” he said softly.

He'd felt Padmé approach, the calmness of her inner self caressing him like a cooling wind soothing his broiling emotions. Despite the fact they were hiding here from assassins she was still calm most of the time.

“I don't want to disturb you,” she stated calmly.

He took another deep breath and assured her, “Your presence is soothing.”

She bit her lip, choosing her words carefully, “You had another nightmare,” she stated succinctly.

“Jedi don't have nightmares,” he replied quickly.

“I _heard_ you,” she said stating the obvious.

He opened his eyes, taking in another deep breath, before turning to face her.

Even fresh in the morning, Padmé looked beautiful, her long tresses hanging off her shoulders. The confusion of his emotions towards her here were another issue for him.

_One problem at time. I'll deal with one problem at a time,_ he thought to himself.

“It wasn't a nightmare...not anymore. But it is the same dream. Of my Mother. I see her crying out in fear and pain...it comes every night. I see her just like I'm seeing you now. Always the same dream. It was worse at the beginning, but now...” he trailed off shaking his head in confusion.

Padmé looked at him in confusion, “But?”

“Her pain has gone now. She...even seems happy again now,” he admitted.

Her confusion grew, “Shouldn't this be a good thing?”

He nodded agreeing with her, “It should, but thing that saved her...I can see a black oily cloud surrounding her now.”

Padmé nodded, “That does seem disturbing,” she said cautiously.

“It's worse than that- I know what it is. It's the Dark Side. My mother is surrounded by the Dark Side of the Force,” he spoke in distress.

She was taken aback, she rocked back on her heels in surprise.

He wasn't finished, “I think it's a person. Someone strong in the Dark Side.”

Now he could feel her worry, her face had transformed into her serious Senator look, “A person? Like... _a Sith?!_ ” Thoughts of Darth Maul came to mind.

He shrugged, “Maybe. Maybe not. There are other groups that use the Dark Side...”

She was anxious now, he'd ripped away her calm center without meaning to. It displeased him, that he'd hurt her so. He hadn't meant to. Which made what he was going to say worse.

“I have to go to her, if someone is after her- or has her; I have to save her from whatever is stalking her,” he stated firmly. Unhappy that he was about to leave the Senator alone without a proper escort.

“It's Okay Ani, I'm coming too,” she stated firmly.

“I'm sorry. I don't have a choice,” He finished.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

He hated Dust. He hated Sand. Tatooine was the same dusty and sandy hellhole that it always was. They'd stopped first in Mos Espa looking for his mother. Nothing had changed to his eyes. In fact it had gotten worse. He could feel the desperation of the people in the Force now. He met Watto again there.

Watto had looked like a shell of his old self, times were tough for the old scrap dealer now...and truthfully Anakin didn't know how to feel about that. He'd always had mixed feelings about Watto. There had been genuine good times. Others hadn't been as good, but still his situation had so much better than others he'd known and after he'd joined the Jedi he'd seen just how bad Slavery could go.

But still Watto had _owned_ him and his mother. And that didn't sit right with him no matter what.

The old Toydarian had been confused at first when they showed up, but then he'd been excited and even _happy_ to see Anakin again. Watto was still Watto, he'd tried to pull Anakin into a scheme, but he'd still told them where Shmi was.

His mother was free.

She'd been bought and then freed by a Moisture Farmer...who she'd promptly married after being freed.

His mother was free. That was a good thing.

His mother was married...that he didn't know what he felt about that.

Deep breath.

_There is no Emotion, there is Peace._

Another deep breath...

Yeah, still not helpful.

He set the ship down gently at the edge of the Lars Homestead. He set the systems to standby and cast a look toward Padmé, who gave him a small reassuring smile. He couldn't feel any real darkness around them now. So that was a good sign.

They exited the ship and started walking towards the main house that was just a short distance away from them.

As they approached a scruffy and rusty turned to watch them. It perked up as they neared it, “I am C-”

“ _Threepio?_ ” Anakin couldn't believe it. Mom had managed to keep him _and_ found a proper outer covering for him?!

“Oh. Oh! _The Maker!_ Ah Master Ani! I knew you would return! I just knew it!” the droid chimed enthusiastically, “And Miss Padmé!”

“Hello Threepio,” Padmé greeted the enthused droid with a smile.

“Oh my!” Bless my circuits! I'm so pleased to see you both!” he seemed almost about to overload from his happiness.

“I've come to see my mother,” he stated evenly.

“Oh of course Master Ani! Why Mistress Shmi is right over there,” the droid pointed off towards the main house of the Moisture Farm, “she's just outside the house.”

Suddenly, his heart was beating in his chest. He forgot all about Threepio as every Jedi calming trick he'd ever learned failed him completely as they started towards the main house, leaving the droid to continue whatever he was tasked to do.

For years, he'd dreamed of seeing his mom again. Every possible variation had run though his mind at one time or another...and now here they were. He forgot everything else as he walked, becoming focused on this one moment.

His mind went blank as he finally saw her. She was standing there holding a basket in one hand. She was dressed as he remembered even though the clothes looked to be a better quality than before, but not by much. She looked older, but her blue eyes still shone and she seemed more energized than he remembered.

He neared her and she turned around, she looked at him for a moment in confusion and a little apprehension on her face. Strangers were an uncommon occurrence this far from the main settlements of Tatooine. And then he felt the shock and hope explode in her as she looked at him before either of them could speak. The basket in her hands fell from her nerveless hands as her face morphed into vision of disbelieving hope.

“ _A-Ani?!_ ” her voice trembled with emotion.

“M-Mom...” it came out as a near whisper, lacking his normal assuredness.

Her face broke into a delighted smile as she then near leapt at him pulling him into a fierce hug. His arms went all the way around her and he was shocked at just how much smaller she seemed to him now...but none of that mattered now.

Suddenly for the first time in a long time, all seemed well in the galaxy. No threats to Padmé, no arguments with Obi-Wan or the Jedi Council.

So many times she had held him like that when he was small, before Qui-Gon had come, before the Padmé and before his life had been irrevocably changed by fate. Before he became the Chosen One.

He didn't know how long they stood like that holding on to each other for dear life, but eventually they broke apart.

Shmi looked up into his eyes, tears of joy streaming down her cheeks, “You're so tall Ani,” she said in awe, “And you look so handsome. My son. My grown up son,” she looked down at his clothes and her eyes saw the lightsaber on his belt, “And you're a Jedi now! I'm so proud of you!”

The sense of her pride in him was shining in the Force like a beacon, it shone with an intensity that was readable from parsecs away.

He looked at her with undisguised joy. He'd dreamt about coming back to her for so many years, attachment or not, in this moment he didn't care. He was grinning with unabashed delight.

His voice trembled with emotion, “I missed you, mom.”

“My son,” she repeated again reverently, overcome with joy.

He looked her over, his initial assessment of her was right, she did look good, but he felt the echoes of pain in the Force coming from her, then he noticed the marks on her face and his face darkened. There were healing bruises and cuts on her face. His heart was suddenly in his throat, as he remembered the feelings of pain he'd felt in his nightmare.

He ran his hand cautiously over the healing cut on her left cheek, “What happened?”

She shook her head, “It doesn't matter. I'm okay now, I'm safe now.” she assured him.

“But you weren't were ”

The smile disappeared from her face, “Ani, I'm okay, but...”

“But what?” he almost demanded angrily.

Shmi began haltingly in a calm tone, “I...I was taken by the Tusken Raiders-”

“ _What?!_ ” he cried out in shock and alarm. He felt his rage rising at the thought of his mother in the Tuskens' hands.

Shmi stroked his face reassuringly, with a calming smile on her healing face, “It's okay now, Ani, I was saved, and I'm okay now,” she said in a reassuring tone, “There was this... _man_...he and his associate saved me.”

Anakin tried to calm himself, his mother was standing here, safe and alive, it had turned out well for his mother despite her ordeal.

“Who was this man?” he asked. Whoever he was Anakin owed him an immense debt, he probably wouldn't be able to pay back.

Shmi began calmly, “He called himself Lord Vader...”


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

“Anakin, I'm okay,” his mother reassured him, “I survived, that's all that matters.” Her smile was earnest and reassuring as she clutched his face between her hands.

He cast his concerns aside and whoever this Lord Vader was, and smiled down at her, he'd dreamed of this moment for years.

He pulled her closer and hugged her tightly. She returned the hug and he could feel the waves of contentment coming off of her in the Force.

After what seemed an eternity they broke apart and he couldn't keep the grin off his face. Her proud smile hadn't diminished and she stroked his face lovingly again, marveling at how he had grown.

Despite his anxiety, the reunion with his mother was proving to be everything that he had expected...everything that he had hoped for.

It was then that his mother noticed Padmé as she had stood silently watching the joyful reunion of mother and son.

Surprise blossomed on his mother's face, “Padmé?”

Padmé smiled back and nodded, “Shmi.”

Happiness returned to his mother's face, as she let go of him and engulfed Padmé in a hug.

Padmé looked nonplussed at the warm welcome, “Uh, it's good to see you as well Shmi.”

They broke apart but his mother's smile didn't diminish, “And you as well. I'm glad to see you're well as well...”

He stretched out with the Force as his mother, brightly and happily continued to greet Padmé. Outside the house he could feel nothing. Here, the Force was quiescent and silent.

He pulled his senses back in, as his mother grabbed his arm and pulled him along.

“Come on Ani, I want you to meet your stepfather! Cliegg is a good man, you'll like him-”

He smiled at her enthusiastically, “He freed you, I already like him, mom.”

She laughed and smiled broadly, “Ohh...and you'll like Owen, Cliegg's son. He's a good boy-well man now. He's all grown up just like you.”

He nodded back at her, Owen, a stepbrother. He'd never had any siblings before, he hadn't even gotten along that well with the other Padawans in the Jedi Temple. His numerous clashes with Ferus Olin also decided to rear it's head as he contemplated this new stepbrother. But it hadn't all been bad, he'd had almost friends, when he'd first come to the Jedi Temple. A'Sharad Hett had welcomed him, but they'd rarely seen each other afterwards. All in all, this would take some getting used to.

As he entered the house, he suddenly shivered.

He could feel the dark side now, it was a trickle, a slender trail of coldness running through the house. It was a weak in the house...but it was there. It seemed to be dissipating and soon enough there would be no sign of this _Lord Vader's_ passage. It was undeniable the stench of the dark side.

But most disturbing of all was how... _familiar_ it seemed.

Whoever this Vader was, Anakin _knew_ that he knew _him_...they had crossed paths once before, but it escaped him when this had happened.

And it chilled him, to feel his dreams confirmed, his mother had been in danger and he hadn't saved her. He hadn't heeded the Force...and yet this Vader had saved her.

One burning question sat at the forefront of his mind, _why?!_

Not who, or what was Vader, _why_? _Why_ his mother? _Why_ save her? _Why_ was she important to this Vader?

His mother continued to speak with Padmé happily ignorant of the turmoil in his gut.

He met his stepfather and stepbrother, only half focusing, his mind preoccupied. It all seemed strange to him, but most importantly his mother was happy. Overjoyed that all her family was finally gathered all in one place.

He allowed her joy to move him forward.

And somehow...the days passed almost idyllically, life on a Moisture Farm was hard, there was always some work to be done, but it was almost as calming for him as the Lake House on Naboo had been, even his disquiet and alarm had quieted down. He knew that he should have done something more to investigate, but he didn't. Off the top of his head, he had no idea where to begin investigating this dark side user. And more importantly, why did this dark side user save his mother? _Nothing_ explained _that_...but in the end, more pressing matters finally appeared to distract him and bring him back to reality.

As he and Padmé stood outside the house, Artoo came trundling up to them with Threepio by his side, the protocol droid began hesitantly, “It seems he is carrying a message from someone named Obi-Wan Kenobi...”

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Vader watched the sensor displays and listened to the com signals from Geonosis. So much of it was familiar. The _Ark Angel 3_ hid silently near one of the moons of Geonosis. The ship was rigged for stealth and with nearly twenty years of technological advancements behind it, he doubted that anyone would see them.

He'd agonized endlessly, wondering how and when to interfere. But in the end he'd realised that some things should be left to run the same course.

His younger self _needed_ a dose of humility and cautiousness.

The first Battle of Geonosis had occurred exactly as he had remembered it. He'd thought about saving Jango for his own personal use, but it was too much effort to save a single bounty hunter when he had other available tools that could be acquired with less effort. He didn't have the limitless resources of the Empire to aid him. He had considerable monetary resources stolen from Jabba, and other paths he was perusing, but it all paled to what he had once commanded. No Noghri commandos at his beck and call, no Imperial Army, no Imperial Navy and no Force sensitive pawns to command- at least not _yet_ anyway.

He watched and waited. The only noise around him, the sound of his respirator. Aphra was in her quarters asleep. He didn't need her awake for this part. And she was tired from finishing her most recent mission.

She'd just finished adding an accelerant to the smoldering fire that was starting to rage on Nal Hutta.

She had been her usual helpful self, though the looks she sent him when he wasn't looking were starting to get grating. She had no idea what he really had planned- not that he regularly told her what he was planning. Most times she could guess it, with a good modicum of accuracy...but not this time. This time there were far too many unknowns for her to accurately guess.

The sensor board beeped.

_There._

He saw it leaving the atmosphere and heading out of the gravity well of Geonosis. Hate filled him as stared as the sleek solar sailer deployed it's solar sail. He knew who was aboard, he could feel his darkness in the Force.

_Dooku_. _Tyranus_.

Vader seethed. He'd killed him once, and he intended to kill him again, _soon_. He could have ambushed him on Geonosis. Killing Dooku here would have killed the Separatist movement before it could truly begin.

But he needed the chaos of the Clone War. To get to Palpatine, he needed him distracted and playing the Republic off the Separatists would take Palpatine's full attention. Even Sith Lords had limits to how many they could manipulate at one time.

Especially considering the wild card Vader had introduced into the fold.

He smiled grimly behind his mask. Events were simmering and would soon come to a head.

On his sensor board, Dooku's ship finished deploying the solar sail and then quickly jumped to Hyperspace.

“ _Soon..._ ” Vader intoned darkly to himself, “Soon Dooku, we will meet _again_. And you will not enjoy our meeting.”

For now, he had one thing that he could do while waiting for his first step to come into play.

_Maul._

Darth Maul was mad and incoherent on Lotho Minor now. Easy pickings and one less potential nuisance for him latter on. Qui-Gon's killer wouldn't get a reprieve this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heh, I should probably have added this to the last the chapter, but heh, hindsight. Anyway, more ripples in the making :);) Next chapter will have more dialogue and less introspection. 
> 
> As always, don't forget to comment! :)


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Jiliac Desilijic Tirob was nervous. Truly nervous for the first time in a _very_ long time. He had demanded this gathering in the aftermath of Jabba's death. This was not the smaller council with just the heads of the Cartels. No, he had summoned the greater council of Hutts, a gathering of the clan leaders big and small. It was a much more far ranging group, but in light of the degree of the attack, nothing less than this was appropriate.

What they didn't know was just how badly Clan Desilijic had been mauled by the attack. Or that it had not been a single attack. The physical attack on Jabba's palace on Tatooine had only been the start.

The attacks on their accounts was ongoing, passwords and secrets accounts of the clan that only he and Jabba had known were drying up, transferred away though the Banking Clan, all on the surface legitimate, but his own accountants and aides were rushing to curtail the damage done and prevent any further loss. And there would be a reckoning for those the Banking Clan that had aided the Trade Federation.

But what it all amounted to was _weakness_.

The weakness of Clan Desilijic. A weakness that made them vulnerable. Very vulnerable.

Jiliac's eyes strayed towards the assembled Hutts before him. Specifically, to one Hutt in particular.

Aruk Besadii Aora, the head of Clan Besadii, an old and canny Hutt nearly a thousand years old. He lounged surrounded only by his bodyguards and the only Hutt next to him was that young scarred offspring of his, Durga.

Jiliac hid his distaste masterfully as he slithered forward towards the center of the large Clan Hall. Aruk should have smothered that creature once it was born.

He mentally shook himself, now was not the time to get distracted.

He came to the center of the chamber and looked around at all the Hutt Lords present. It was a thing of pride to see so many powerful members gathered here to listen to _him_.

If only they and he had been here for _any_ other reason.

He raised his arms high, “I come before you my fellow Hutts, demanding _Vengeance_!” Jiliac roared mightily as he began his speech, “My dear nephew Jabba has been murdered!”

Angry shouts and the sounds of tails slapping the floor echoed through the council chambers.

“...My clan has been treacherously attacked!”

There were more angry shouts. More tail slapping. Less than he wanted, he could already see the beginning of glee at his misfortune on the faces of a number of the Hutt. Damnable Aruk remained unreadable, even as Durga sneered in glee.

“Some of you think this is a good thing! I tell you this is a blow to all Hutts! This was _not_ some rival clan!” he gestured and Ephant Mon approached.

The loyal Chevin came forward and cast the battered remains of Trade Federation Battle droid into the center of the room.

“The Trade Federation dared to attack us!” he spat in a fury.

The wave of anger he had been expected, hit him, at the thought of those lesser creatures daring to attack a Hutt. The sound of it was a living thing that crested across the room, curses were spat, incoherent roars of derision, the rage was universal.

He wasn't finished, he spent the next hour talking himself hoarse, speaking of all he knew, he summoned loyal Ephant Mon to give his own testimony, even as datapads beeped across the room as his aide transmitted all the evidence to everyone.

“Too long has the Trade Federation dared to rival us! Them must be made to _**PAY**_!” he shouted, filling his words with all of his wrath, “this _must_ not go unanswered!” he finished.

He felt spent after the final word was said. He'd channeled so much into the words, gambled so much on this. His clan needed _this_.

He saw movement from the corner of his eye, Aruk was slithering forward to be heard.

A cold fury gripped Jiliac, that damnable creature!

Aruk raised one hand and looked Jiliac in the eye as he spoke.

“Lord Jiliac is right.”

Jiliac blinked.

“Lord Jiliac is right!” Aruk repeated louder.

_What is happening?_ Jiliac thought in trepidation

“It is not Clan Desilijic that has been attacked. We have _ALL_ been attacked!” Aruk exclaimed bristling fiercely with passion, “How many of us have been insulted before by the Trade Federation?” he paused and spat in disgust, “Far too many. They do not fear us!”

Cries of dismay and disbelief echoed in response to Aruk's tirade.

“We are Hutts! We are the greatest of all beings in the galaxy! And these lesser creatures dare to insult us? To attack us?!” he continued unabated in his fury, “Some may question what Lord Jiliac has presented to us, but I do not!” He cast looks around the room staring down any defiant looks that he met his. Finally, he pointed to Ephant Mon, “I believe there are few here who haven't tried to bribe him over the years,” he pause for a deep breath, “And we have all been rebuffed. We are aware of just how loyal and true you are to the departed Jabba. We should all be so lucky to have just a devoted servant.”

Jiliac frowned, Aruk was laying it on rather think. He cast a look at the conflicted Ephant Mon, the Chevin was standing tall and proud before the Clans, he was still angry, but Jiliac could see the way he preened at the compliments.

“This loyal servant of the Hutts stands before us crying out for vengeance for his master! And I will not deny him that honor!”

Aruk slapped his tail down on the ground with a resounding thud, “We are Hutts! We crushed Xim the Despot when the galaxy _couldn't_! They have forgotten us! It is time to remind the galaxy remember our true power!” boomed Aruk wrathfully, “ _Let them tremble at our might!_ ”

Cheers and cries for vengeance echoed through the chamber at Aruk's charismatic call, a rising call to action, even Jiliac twisted uneasily inside, this was surly only the first move in some intricate plan of Aruk's.

Things progressed quickly after that.

Jiliac was astounded and amazed at just _how_ quickly things progressed. The Hutt Lords were decided on their course of action and the Trade Federation would pay in blood for all their insults.

As things began to winded down, a protocol droid approached, “All mighty Jiliac Desilijic Tirob , my master Aruk Besadii Aora invites you to join him, he asks your indulgence in this, he wishes to speak quietly with you and your servant Ephant Mon.”

Jiliac eyed it with distaste and suspicion, what else was that canny old Hutt up to?

He cast an eye towards the distant Hutt who was sitting peacefully with his deformed offspring next to him. Whatever Aruk was up to, it seemed for now that their goals aligned.

“Tell your master, I will hear what he has to say.”

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxx

Aruk's office was simplistic much like it's master. The old Hutt was not one to lean towards extravagance. Functionally, it was perfect, up to any Hutt clan leader's standards, but it did befit the splendor that should embody a Hutt Clan Leader's private office.

It was also the very first time that Jiliac had ever been here or in such close proximity to his long time rival. Even with everything that was going wrong, this was still a chance to better understand his rival, to prepare for whatever double-cross would come along later.

Aruk and Jiliac had no guards here. Durga reclined next to his father and Ephant Mon stood obediently next to Jiliac.

“Lord Aruk,” he managed to say the name civilly, “Lord Durga,” the second name lacked the first's civility.

Durga bristled at the tone.

“Lord Jiliac,” the old Hutt even sounded welcoming, as he placed a calming hand on his son's shoulder, “We are all friends here.” His son settled even as he glared daggers silently at Jiliac.

Jiliac couldn't help himself, he scoffed at the words.

Aruk wasn't insulted, he smiled back at Jiliac, “Fate has made us friends...for a time at least.”

Jiliac winced and growled unhappily, that statement held more truth than he wanted to admit, “You wished to speak.”

“I wished to speak about the _motives_ behind the Trade Federation's _bold_ actions,” he specified plainly.

Jiliac's eyes narrowed, that was the one strangeness that stood out to him as well. Nute Gunray and the Neimoidians were weaklings and cowards. This- _Jabba's blatant murder_ , was very out of character for them. But then again the invasion of Naboo had also been out of character as well.

“And?” he prompted.

Aruk's eyes darkened and he asked gravely.“Tell me, have you heard the name _Darth Sidious_?”

Jiliac flicked his tongue in annoyance, “Yes. Nate Gunray claimed he was backing him during the Naboo incident.”

Aruk nodded, “A Sith Lord.”

Jiliac sneered, “It was a rather stupid excuse, even by Neimoidian standards. The Sith are gone to dust, the Jedi saw to that.”

“ _Did they?_ ” asked Aruk quizzically.

Jiliac frowned, “You believe they survived?” he asked wondering where Aruk was going with this, “You believe they are involved as well? To what purpose?”

“My father believed. And his father before him always believed they survived, that they went into hiding,” Aruk admitted, “As to their plans, destroying the Jedi is a good bet considering History- how they will go about that...that still escapes me. I only know what has been done. Not what will happen.”

“And? What does it matter to us if the Sith have survived? Or if they manage to destroy the Jedi?” Jiliac asked waving away the issue.

“Ah yes, you would think that the Sith would be good for business, but in practice, Jedi are better than Sith,” Aruk admitted with much surprise.

Jiliac gave him a startled look, “Surely you're joking.” Sith were far more understandable creatures than those self-righteous and pious Jedi.

“Heh, no,” Aruk said in an amused tone, “The Jedi are _predictable_. You will always know where you stand with them- predictability. It is good to have predictable adversaries, that's just _good_ business.”

Aruk had a point, but he didn't have to like it, “And the Sith aren't?” Jiliac asked in distaste.

Aruk stilled and narrowed his eyes, “The Sith...by their nature are unpredictable to an extreme. Offer them hospitality and honor them, and for the most part they _can_ be civil. You just never know what will set them off.”

Jiliac shifted uneasily, he didn't like where Aruk was going with this, “You believe that the Sith are controlling the Trade Federation?”

“It is a possibility. They may also be a catspaw. The Sith much like the Jedi should not be underestimated. For lesser creatures, they can be quite cunning.”

“And you think they are a threat?” Jiliac asked pointedly.

“A grave threat indeed...I will tell you a story that my father once told me,” Aruk began gravely, “My father and his father before him, lived though the last war between the Jed and the Sith. And they remembered the _old_ stories,” he took a deep breath, “Once, the Sith were an Empire to rival the Republic. War was inevitable and prolonged when it came. But the war was good for us, for Nar Shaddaa, for our enterprises, the arms trade was _always_ booming like nothing you could _imagine_. I've seen my Clan's the ledgers from that time and I am awed and envious of their profit margins.”

Jiliac listened and watched as greed, envy and awe crossed the face of the old Hutt.

“...Business with the Sith Empire continued and a Sith was sent to Nar Shaddaa to negotiate with the Hutt Cartels of that time,” Aruk grunted and flicked his tongue in disquiet, “The Negotiations began well enough, the deal was concluded and then...”

“And then?” Jiliac demanded.

“And then a second Sith appeared, a rival to the first Sith and _murdered everyone_ , including two Hutts,” he finished in disgust.

Jiliac balked.

“That same Sith rose to join their Dark Council, to rule the Sith Empire. Sith do not care about consequences. When there actually _are_ any consequences. For us, Hutt mortality was much higher during the height of the Sith power,” Aruk huffed angrily, “That is something in _both_ our interests to work against.”

Jiliac eyed Aruk, the old Hutt seemed upfront about his qualms and unease. Jiliac's own knowledge about the Sith was lacking compared to Aruk's. That was something he'd have to rectify soon. And what Aruk brought up was truly disturbing.

“What do you want then? What do you _suggest_?” he began cautiously.

“We must strike at the Trade Federation. Our hand has been forced there...granted that hurting or crushing them will still help us in the long run, but we must keep a close eye out for the Sith. Or whatever other pawns may be thrown into our path,” Aruk explained.

Jiliac mulled over his options carefully. It was a disturbing picture that Aruk had drawn him. He shared a look with Ephant Mon, who looked equally intrigued and infuriated by this theory, “So be it. Let us be wary. _Together_.”

A frightening think happened next.

Aruk's face twisted in malicious smile, “Good. Then let us plan how we will crush these upstart Neimoidians...”

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxx

Aphra wrinkled her nose, “I'm never getting the smell out am I?” she complained aloud as she ordered the cleaning droids to start again, before replacing her mask.

The smell in Triple Zero's newly vacated temporary torture chamber was still unbearable. She'd always thought that Hutt slime smelled horrid. Well apparently, they smelled worse inside...

She sighed unhappily, they'd probably have to air out the whole ship sometime soon. The smell was still spreading!

Or at least try to. She was the only one that had any issues with the smell. The droids were... _droids_. And Vader's mask dealt with the smell. Not that she expected a Dark Lord of the Sith to complain about as lowly as a rotten smell.

She sighed again. Thankfully, it had been a very illuminating interrogation. All the money they had siphoned off from Desilijic- and were _still_ siphoning, she mentally added with a gleeful smile, was going to good cause now.

Them. And whatever fun plan Vader had concocted.

Vader had finished dealing with this Maul character- whoever he _had_ been. Vader had even seemed to be in a good mood when he returned to the ship with the broken...well _thing_ dragged behind him.

He'd tossed it to Triple Zero and told the droid to dispose of it.

Afterwards Vader hadn't said anything else before going off to his part of the ship, leaving her alone with the droids...again.

That had been nearly two hours ago.

Aphra found herself sitting picking at a preheated meal in the galley as she waited for Vader to do something.

Unfortunately, she was only halfway though her meal when he emerged again. His rhythmic breathing echoing in the ship.

He entered the galley and stared at her, as she did her best not to squirm. She, slowly and awkwardly, continued putting food in her mouth. She did her best to chew quietly. She didn't want to offend the Sith Lord with her loud chewing.

Thankfully, Triple Zero chose that time to interrupt them.

Triple Zero approached and held up a large box covered with a sheet to Vader, “My Lord I thought you would appreciate my skills.” Without waiting for Vader's acknowledgment, the protocol droid removed the sheet from over the box. Underneath, was a large transparent box, and inside it was the mounted head of the creature Vader had dragged back. It had been cleaned up and the thing had obviously once been a Zabrak, with magnificent and intricate red and black facial tattoos.

Only the sound of Vader's hard vesicular breathing could be heard in the ship. He stared at the head for a long time, leaving Triple Zero standing there holding the box with the head. She used the time to quickly finish her meal.

Then Vader _laughed_.

It was a booming sinister thing that made Aphra's _spine_ tingle. And not _just_ her spine _tingled_.

“I do enjoy it when my efforts are appreciated,” Triple Zero chimed in contented.

“Excellent work, find a place for it. A _prominent_ place,” Vader commanded.

“That's nice...so? What's our next step?” Aphra asked with a smile and skip in her step. A Happy Sith Lord was a Happy Aphra. He was less likely to kill her when he was happy.

“ _Dooku,”_ she could _feel_ the anger and venom in his voice as he spoke the name, “We go after him,” Vader stated unequivocally.

Aphra knew of the Separatist Leader, apparently Vader wasn't pulling his punches...not that he ever did, “Awesome. So where are we going then?”

“Bakura.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyway, more ripples in the making, or rather crashing waves ;) ;P XD
> 
> Cookie for the person that gets the rather blatant Old Republic game reference ;D 
> 
> As always, don't forget to comment! :)


	8. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the feedback! I appreciate it all :) Glad everyone enjoyed the last chapter. Hope u enjoy this one as well. 
> 
> A lot of you will wonder why the delay, for this story and the Raven's Plan, a part of me decided, for some reason that escapes me, that I NEEDED yet another time consuming hobby. I've spent the past months ordering, putting together, and painting Warhammer 40k miniatures, I've got 9 Primaris Ultramarines done and a Primaris Dreadnought finished so far....I also bought the Elite Starter pack....so yeah that happened *shrugs* On the other hand, my stress levels are at an all time low, it's a very relaxing hobby for me, even when painting the really small details :D So that's good! :D
> 
> Anyway, as regards the story, a lot- most actually, of the Bakuran setting is made up. In canon, it appears only in the first 3 pages of issue #72 of Star Wars Republic. The first section here is almost completely the same as in the comic. 
> 
> Anyway, as always don't forget to comment! :D

**Chapter 7**

_Of all my miscalculations, this is probably my worse one yet...and my last._

Sora Bulq hit the wall with a resonating sickening thud, electricity arcing over his body. The Weequay Jedi fell to the floor in a still lump of flesh.

Tholme held his green lightsaber up, tip pointed towards Dooku as the Count turned back towards him. Tholme didn't give him a moment to continue boasting and went on the offensive, striking hard and fast.

Dooku parried and struck back and it took all of Tholme ability to keep the hateful red blade away.

Dooku smiled evilly, “I really must compliment you, Master Tholme. You've kept up your dueling skills better than most Jedi,” he held Tholme's blade back, the placid expression on his face never wavering as Tholme continued to attack, “Too many Jedi use it merely to reflect back blaster bolts. _Inelegant_ ,” he spoke as if speaking with a respected colleague, “We share a respect for the Old Ways, you and I—and _more_. You have seen the corruption, as I have. There must be change. Embrace it! _Join me!_ ” Dooku's eyes blazed with power and deceit.

The words were lies. There was no joining him. There was only Dooku and Sidious. That was the way of the Sith. Hiding the lies in half truths, Tholme _had_ seen the corruption, but Dooku's path was not the answer. It was just, yet another path of corruption, of a different type.

Tholme snarled at the fallen Jedi as their blades clashed against one another, over and over again, “No, Count. We do not share the same _beliefs--_ or so many Jedi would not have perished in the arena. You were tested there as well. I can feel your _exhaustion_. I'll accept your surrender _now_ ,” he projected more confidence in his voice than he felt.

Dooku's face darkened at the slight, his blows growing stronger and faster. No more words were spoken. Blows rained down on Tholme, even as he tried to go back on the offensive. The fighting went on and on...

“ _Uhh!_ ” Tholme cried out in pain as Dooku's blade finally made it through his defenses, burning a hole into his right shoulder.

He fell back, trying to open a space between them, but Dooku was relentless, a blow loosened Tholme's grip on his blade and a second cast the lightsaber from his hand, flinging it across the room.

Another blow caught him across the chest, burning his skin and robes. He collapsed to his knees, as the pain momentarily overwhelmed him. He waited for the final blow to come, but Dooku just stood over him, leering down at him, shining in the Force with satisfaction and assured arrogance, “Tell me again, Tholme. Which of us is _exhausted_? I'm offering you an opportunity again-- join me or _die_.”

He didn't hesitate in answering, there was only one answer to the question in Tholme's mind, “I do not fear death. I will not join you.” He clutched as his shoulder, it burned with pain. He panted with exhaustion.

“A shame. Still, your choice is made and I will respect it,” grudging respect in his voice, “Here. A token of that respect. _And of my power._ ”

Jedi Master T'ra Saa's grief stricken face flashed in front of Tholme's eyes for an instant, as Dooku gave him one last glare.

_Goodbye T'ra_.

Dooku raised his hand and then clenched his fist, Tholme felt the Force swell with power.

Then the roof collapsed on top of him. He tried to raise a force shield around him, but he was too weak. The stones rained down on him uncaring. His head exploded with pain and darkness claimed him...

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Dooku stared down at where he had buried Tholme. He could still feel him in the Force. The old Jedi was a hard one to kill...not that he wanted to kill him yet. If he'd wanted him dead, he would have used his lightsaber, but Tholme was still of use to Dooku and his master.

Dooku turned back towards his main quarry. Sora Bulq. The Weequay Jedi was ripe for the picking, it would be child's play to nudge him along to the Dark Side. The Jedi master already had more than a foot across the line.

Dooku only had an instant to react, he froze in confusion before he was suddenly assailed by the Dark Side. He was thrown back and cross the room with no warning. Dooku hit the far wall with a thud, he used the Force to cushion the impact and rebounded off nimbly, raising and igniting his lightsaber with a snap-hiss.

He came to a stop in an en garde position and looked for his attacker, expecting an angry Jedi Master about to attack him. He stopped short when he saw a dark figure standing over Sora Bulq, _red_ lightsaber ignited, but held low at his side, at ease.

The figure wore the Dark Side like a cloak, clad in black armour, with a powerful build, and a flowing black cloak. His outfit was completed with a Death's Head mask that completely hid the man's face; an intimidating figure and the quintessential picture of a Sith Warrior...if not for the harsh breathing of the man's respirator.

Dooku cursed himself for not hearing his attacker approach. How had he missed out on the sound of the man's breathing?

“ _Who are_ _you_?” Dooku demanded angrily, not letting his guard down. He kept his lightsaber held out pointed at the Sith Warrior.

The Sith Warrior- there was no mistaking what the man was, however impossible it seemed, did not respond immediately, Dooku could feel the man's eyes glaring at him from behind the mask.

“Count Dooku.” His voice dripped with dark hatred and deep disdain. The man cast a look down at Sora Bulq, “Sora Bulq. You have so much planned for him. A number of plans hinge on him.”

With a quick casual stroke, the warrior separated Sora Bulq's head from his body.

Dooku growled angrily as so many plans were suddenly destroyed out of hand by this interloper.

“You will pay for _that_ ,” he declared angrily. Dooku's connection to the Dark Side grew, fueled by his rage. As everything he'd planned, as so much he'd worked towards, was suddenly made _worthless_.

“ _No_. I will _not_.” Vader retorted in complete confidence. “Your plan for a Schism is _ended_ ,” he paused for an indeterminate moment, “Ha. Or rather, _Palpatine's_ plan is over.”

Coldness clutched at Dooku as he was caught unaware with the warrior's causal revelation of his master's identity.

“ _Who are you?!_ ” he demanded again harshly.

“I am Darth Vader, Dark Lord of the Sith. I _was_ your replacement,” the finally answered, for some reason Dooku heard humour in Vader's tone.

Dooku snorted in derision, understanding finally coming to him, “A failure then.” A discarded apprentice then, and a test from Palpatine.

Sinister, arrogant laughter came from Vader now, “You have _no_ idea.”

“Enough games,” Dooku declared, this farce had gone on long enough, if this Vader was a test from Palpatine, he was a test Dooku would over come. He Force jumped towards Vader, jabbing forward with his lightsaber.

Vader met the blow and reposed, driving Dooku back, and surprising him with the strength of the blow. No matter how damaged Vader's breathing indicated, he was _strong_.

Dooku met Vader's next blow and was driven backwards again, the sheer strength of it was undeniable.

Vader didn't let up, as blow after blow rained down on Dooku, who suddenly found himself in the fight of his life.

Strike, repose, dodge, the rhythm of the duel was intense. Much more than the fight with Tholme had been.

Back and forth, faster and faster they went, Dooku met one blow on the left and then his head spun as Vader's fist met his nose with a sickening crack as bones broke from the blow.

This Vader was brawler. No finesse in his moves.

He reeled back for a moment, before retreating back, opening up the space between them as warm blood streamed down his lips and he tasted hot metal. The pain in his face angered him more, he channeled it into the Force strengthening himself more.

“You are _stupider_ than I remember,” Vader declared with a dismissive tone, “Slower, as well.”

_Remember?_

“You think he will take you back if you kill me?” Dooku snarled casting aside Vader's nonsensical reminiscence, “You are a discarded _worthless_ tool, broken and inelegant. What use would he have for _creature_ like you?”

Vader laughed again, “And what use does he have for a _frail old man_ like _you_ , when he has gone to such lengths to cultivate a younger, much more _powerful_ apprentice?”

Dooku sneered even as he mentally frowned, “Your lies are pathetic. You will not distract me.”

“You are nothing more than the _placeholder_ ,” Vader continued unabated.

They moved around each other, eyeing each other, watching for an opening in the others' defenses.

A flicker in the Force was all the warning Dooku received as one of the broken pieces of the ceiling flew at him. He dodged and then cut upwards, bisecting the second piece that was coming towards him.

Dooku whorled around and met Vader's downward strike, it drove him down to a knee but he held it back. _Barely_.

“Weak and Old,” Vader taunted as he beared down with his lightsaber against Dooku's.

Dooku growled and pushed back, expending tremendous effort, he managed to get back onto his feet, “Your words are worthless. You think to distract me?” Perhaps Vader wasn't all brawler, the psychological attacks were weak, but an effective strategy with the weak minded. Dooku had used it before many times.

Vader's resolve didn't waver in the Force, “The new apprentice is right in front of you and yet you fail to see _Skywalker_ for the threat he truly is.”

Dooku froze, “ _Skywalker?_ ” he echoed in disbelief. Impossibly, Vader's words suddenly had an echo of truth to them. The boy's anger was _great_ , his potential _beyond_ impressive.

There was a sudden stinging in his back and the pressure from Vader's blade disappeared. He staggered forward as Vader moved to the side.

Dooku brought his lightsaber around in a wide arc, trying to strike at Vader, but something was wrong. His arm was suddenly weak and shaking. He missed by a wide margin, as Vader just stood there lightsaber up, but for some reason not taking advantage of whatever had happened.

Dooku staggered further away, his arm quivering as he tried to keep his lightsaber up and pointed defensively towards Vader.

He felt his thoughts slowing down...there was a pain in his back. He staggered even further away, reaching back with his other hand towards the pain he felt.

His fingers found the problem- there were darts in his back!

He tried to pull them out, but his fingers were becoming numb, fumbling around the darts, they didn't have the strength to pull them out.

His arm finally gave out and his lightsaber fell out of his grasp. The blade disappeared and the handle hit the group with a resonating metallic thud. Dooku's legs failed him next, as his feet went out from under him as the whole room spun out of control around him. He tried to reach for the Force, but he was too disoriented. Too weak. Suddenly, so very _weak_. He could feel the drugs burning though his system, overwhelming him. Whatever cocktail they were using was so very potent.

He was on his back now, he tried to crawl away, so very helpless.

He barely saw as Vader deactivated his lightsaber and attached it to his belt. Before striding confidently towards him.

“ _All too easy_ ,” Vader derided confidently.

Dooku's vision was even more blurred as Vader's black boot rose and then descended, the pain in his face rose to extraordinary heights and then overcame him.

Then there was only _darkness_.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Vader looked down at the bruised and unconscious Dooku. The old man looked weak and feeble now. And it felt good to have crushed the old man down. Today was a good day. He looked up, Triple Zero and Bee Tee were standing there, having played their part in the trap.

“Well done, Bee Tee!” congratulated Triple Zero, as the astromech assassin droid twittered smugly.

“Take him to the ship. And be _careful_ ,” Vader warned the murderous droids.

“Of course, my Lord, and don't you worry, I have this _delightful_ mix that will keep him out of it!” Triple Zero declared in a happy tone.

Vader nodded, “Keep him alive. I have questions for him.”

Triple Zero seemed to deflate a little, “Do I have to?” he asked unhappily.

Vader glared at the droid, “ _Alive_.” He paused for a moment, he smiled evilly under his mask, “He does not have to be... _undamaged_. Just able to talk. Constant pain will help _control_ him.”

“Wonderful, my Lord!” the droid's tone was once more perky at the prospect of inflicting pain. “Come along Bee Tee. Let's get him back to the ship!” he finished enthusiastically.

Vader paid them no more attention, as the droids began dragging Dooku away. He could still feel Tholme in the Force. The Jedi was still alive. Vader stepped towards the rock pile that Tholme was buried under.

Vader already knew what he was going to do.

With the Force, it didn't take him long to dig the Jedi out. The man was just as he remembered him, the severe old man with the scar over his eye. The man that ran most of the Jedi Order's covert ops. He was bloodied and bruised, but still alive and breathing.

Vader reached down and threw the unconscious Tholme roughly over his shoulder. Vader walked out of Dooku's hidden Fortress with the unconscious Jedi over his shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the ripples continue! :D 
> 
> As always don't forget to leave a comment!


	9. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here have another chapter :D

**Chapter 8**

Mother Talzin had felt her son's dark soul extinguished in the Force. She did not fume or rage at Maul's loss. She had felt the future shift, she knew the thread of his life was doomed to end, sooner now, rather than later. This new universe of possibility was already closing off every path she had seen before. So many paths had been shut forever now. Others opened and then just as quickly were closed off.

Like a gardener weeding a garden of all he did not like. And it was _someone_ not _something_ , she'd felt the darkness pushed forward cutting off the paths.

It was not Sidious, that she was sure of, this darkness was blatantly moving against him.

But to her that only question that mattered was it coming for Dathomir? Was this darkness coming for her next? Was it only a matter of time before _it_ came to Dathomir for her and her daughters?

She stirred the echoes of the dark side around her, trying to see more clearly what was moving, but all she saw was a black, Death's Head mask standing in Judgment over the galaxy as it caught fire.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Lod Okrud was the Neimoidian captain of a starship in the Trade Federation. His was the only battleship in the sector. The sphere of his battleship was grounded on the planet for maintenance and loading of supplies. He sat on his command chair patiently waiting for the shipments to be fully loaded onto his ship and the work to be finished. It was dreary work overseeing it all, but safe work. He knew there was nothing special about him, he was a middling mid level bureaucrat entrusted to oversee one ship and the protection of a shipping line into the edge Hutt space.

Nothing ever happened. Bribes had been paid to the Hutts to maintain security and leave them all alone as they conducted business on this dreadfully boring world. He could barely remember its name, even after coming here so many times.

The Hutts were a good business- _from a distance_. The Slugs were terribly arrogant and their smell was worse. Thankfully, his superiors were the ones that had to deal with them. All he had to do was take the cargo back and forth.

As far he was concerned, it was an excellent job. He loved his job. No risk, with moderately good pay. It gave him a good lifestyle that he enjoyed without getting too extravagant.

Lod Okrud was dead before he realised it as the bomb that had been placed under his chair exploded killing everything and everyone on the bridge. If he had still been alive, he would have then felt the reverberations from the rest of his ship as the rest of the bombs on his ship exploded.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Knabb Akkot was a Rodian that enjoyed his work. Few things in life brought him true joy and contentment as much as his work. He sat back on a small cargo container, at the far edge of the spaceport and watched his handiwork. The Trade Federation ship was burning _gloriously_. It had been so easy to sneak in his little creations.

There had been an order to everything before today, bribes had been paid for protection, but the Hutts had rescinded everything, and it was open season on the Trade Federation and all it's holdings. They were paying extra for Neimoidian heads that were brought to them...but that was too much effort for him.

And ship burned so beautifully after he set off his masterpieces. It was worth a little less cash from the Hutts just to watch everything burn. His only annoyance was that he'd had to limit the damage to the spaceport...but still, the ship was burning quite nicely now.

Sirens were blaring across the spaceport even as as more explosions rang out in the night.

_Right on schedule_ , he thought with a contented smile.

Now the rest of the Trade Federation freighters were burning as well.

It was all so...beautiful!

He sighed happily, there was some movement at the base of the sphere of the burning remains of the Trade Federation battleship and he raised up his macrobinoculars to get a better look.

“Awww...that so beautiful,” he cooed with another happy sigh.

One of the spaceport workers was aflame, running around screaming. Akkot's eyes followed as the worker ran back and forth helpless as the flames consumed him. It was a hypnotic and magical sight.

This was but the first of many jobs given to him by the Hutts.

It was good time to be alive.

A _very_ good time, he grinned to himself.

The worker finally fell the ground and grew silent as the flames continued burning.

He put his macrobinoculars down and took in the sight of the aflame spaceport.

The flames were so beautiful.

He sat back and looked up at the remains of the Trade Federation battleship, it continued it burn beautifully.

He sighed again in blissful contentment.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

It took every ounce of self control Palpatine had not to fly into a rage and destroy his office as he finished reading the reports.

On the outside, the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic was concerned and worried as he sat in his private office on Coruscant.

War had erupted everywhere, the Confederacy was going strong from the beginning even as the Jedi and Clones struggled to face them across dozens of battlegrounds.

As a Sith lord, a dozen plans were coming to fruition, as Jedi started dropping like flies. A millenia of planning nearing it's end. It was a beautiful thing to behold.

Unfortunately, War had also erupted somewhere he _hadn't_ expected.

Someone had brazenly murdered Jabba on Tatooine and the Hutts' retribution was a thing of destructive beauty that under much different circumstances he would have admired and respected greatly. Every report he was receiving from the Republic and the Confederacy pointed towards the Trade Federation of being guilty of instigating this stupidity!

There was no question in the matter, the Trade Federation was being targeted and attacked by the Hutts. The list of bombings in Trade Federation territory was massive, and growing daily. _Secure_ shipping lanes were being attacked by _bribed_ Huttese Pirates. And two worlds were being overrun by mercenaries supported by a small fleet, on the payroll of the Hutts. And this was just the vanguard of the Hutts' attack. Real warships and fleets were assembling over Nal Hutta, all with the full backing of _all_ the Hutt Clans.

All because the _Trade Federation_ had murdered Jabba.

Palpatine had had Grievous question Gunray, but the sniveling fool had vehemently denied any part in that murder, even with how damning the evidence was.

He ground his teeth in anger at the situation, because for once in Gunray's life, the sniveling coward was telling the truth.

The Trade Federation was reeling from all the attacks, bleeding ships and materials as they struggled to combat everything that the Hutts were throwing at them. Struggling to secure their supposedly already secure borders with the Hutts. To redeploy ships there to face this attack, and more importantly- away from the Republic forces.

And to top it all off, now Dooku was missing. The silence from his apprentice was deafening. Dooku had gone to Bakura and that was the last anybody had heard of him. The Jedi ambush there had been sprung and defeated, but Palpatine had felt surprise and then disbelief from Dooku before he seemingly disappeared from the Force.

Palpatine knew that Dooku was still alive, he hadn't felt his apprentice die. That was one of the few things that Palpatine was certain of.

There was a tenuous web between it all. He could barely see the machinations, but his instincts were screaming at him that this was just the beginning.

He didn't know how it was all happening, or why...but he knew who was behind it.

His spies had brought him whispers of a dark figure in a Death's Head mask. He had had visions of the Death's Head laughing at him. Whoever this person was, Palpatine knew he was behind it all. The recent disturbance in the Force, the Hutt attacks, Dooku disappearing... _everything_.

He would find this interloper and rip the answers from his mind, one neuron at a time. This interloper would scream in agony for an _age_ before Palpatine was done with him!

But for now, he was forced to bury his emotions down, as deep as he could. Now, he had to play the confused and surprised Chancellor. The Hutts had bought the Republic time and space to counterattack. He would have to do something about _that_.

He pressed a button on desk, buzzing his secretary, “Send the Senators in, my dear, I am ready to receive them,” he stated in a mild and warm tone.

Now the beloved Chancellor, later... _darkness and retribution beckoned_.

He rose as his door opened, and he welcomed his visitors, “Senator Organa,” he paused and gave them all a wide welcoming smile, “Ah! _And Senator Amidala!_ It is so good to see you recovered and back from Naboo! Tell me, how is young Skywalker doing after his grievous injury?” he asked in false concern.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyway, and the first crashing wave has arrived ;) ;P As always, don't forget to comment! :D


	10. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the feedback! I appreciate it all :) Hope u enjoy this one as well. 
> 
> I was intending to update Raven's plan before this, but you can thank the Mandalorian season finale for this ;D No spoilers for those that haven't seen the episode yet :D;P 
> 
> Anyway, I am very gleeful as I post this ;D You'll see why:D;P

**Chapter 9**

Tholme felt his consciousness returning slowly. He could hear a blip of a heart monitor next to his ear. It was both an annoying and reassuring sound.

And it confirmed to him that he wasn't in Dooku's clutches. The fallen Jedi wouldn't need a monitor to know if he was still alive. He opened his eyes and the sterile and drab brown green ceiling that most medical facilities seemed to favor greeted him.

“Hmm...” he started thoughtfully. How did I get here? The last thing I remember is Dooku dropping the roof on me.

“Glad to see you're back with us,” a light female voice stated in welcome.

He turned towards the voice, the voice belonged to a smiling black haired woman with dark eyes. She was dressed in dusty t-shirt and a black sleeveless vest with matching pants.

“Where am I?” he asked stiffly.

“You're in Salis D'aar City Hospital, in the capital. I found you and brought you here...after I dug you out from that mess you were in,” she replied with a carefree shrug of her shoulders.

Slowly, he sat up and scrutinized the woman that had rescued him.

“Who are you?” he asked, leery of this strange woman.

“I'm Dr Chelli Aphra, archaeologist by trade,” the woman introduced herself, “and you Master Jedi?”

His eyes narrowed suspiciously, this far from the Core, and especially on Bakura, few would recognise him as a Jedi, “Jedi Master Tholme.”

Her smile widened, “Nice to meet you, Master Tholme!” she said enthusiastically.

In the Force, the woman was all over the place, she seemed very enthused mixed with a great deal of trepidation. He stared at her suspiciously before asked his next important question, “Where is Master Bulq?”

“Who? You mean the other Jedi that was with you?”

He nodded without a word.

“Oh...yeah, sorry to say he's dead,” she stated with a commiserating smile.

His eyes narrowed in suspicion, “He was still alive before I was knocked unconscious,” he retorted stiffly. Bakura was a human world for the most part. Anti-alien sentiment was common here. Anti-Jedi sentiment was even commoner, thanks to their Cosmic Balance beliefs. Had she left him there?

He gave her a hard calculating stare. She didn't sound like a Bakuran, her accent sounded more like something from the core, with Coruscanti inflections.

And that only added to the woman's mystery.

Dr Aphra returned his long look, before stating simply.“Last time I checked, even Jedi need their heads to be attached...”

Tholme felt himself sag unhappily, he closed his eyes. _Goodbye Master Bulq. You will be missed,_ he thought unhappily.

Opening his eyes, he found Dr Aphra studying him.

“Thank you for saving me,” he thanked her gratefully. Dooku had left him for dead, he would have died if not for this woman. Whoever and whatever she wanted, that was the only certainty here.

She gave him a big cheesy smile, “You're welcome. Always glad to be appreciated,” she replied cheekily, “You know, I've always wanted to meet a Jedi, I've studied your Order extensively. Never had the chance to meet any of you,” she continued with a smile, “I'm still happy to meet you- even under the circumstances.”

Tholme looked at the woman. The woman was conundrum. His suspicious mind wondered what exactly she was really after, she didn't seem the type to help out of the goodness of her heart. He'd known enough scoundrels and smugglers in his life to recognise her type.

“Hmm. And what exactly do I owe you for this rescue?” Tholme asked, cutting right to the heart of the matter.

Aphra's smile grew even broader, “I am _so_ happy you asked that. It just so happens that I am in need of a lift back to Coruscant...and I do seem to be a little strapped for credits at the moment...” she trailed off pointedly.

“Hmm,” the avarice of some people was predictable, he nodded in acquiescence. “That is not out of the question, I am grateful for your help. A _reasonable_ amount of credits can be arranged for you...once I return to the Jedi Temple.”

“Excellent!” she clapped her hands together and rubbed them gleefully at his acceptance, “Oh! That's brilliant! It'll give us time to talk about the Sith that showed after you were knocked out! I'm sure that would be worth another reasonable credit amount as well,” she casually stated.

Tholme started to nod his head before her words caught up with him, _Sith Lord?!_ Fight _after_ he was unconscious?! What in the name of the Force was she talking about?

“What? What fight?!” he spluttered in surprise, sitting up properly in the hospital bed and giving her his undivided attention.

She leaned forward, enjoying the surprise that she had sprung in him, smiling gleefully, “We have _so_ much to talk about...” she stated in a sotto voce voice.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Vader could feel the pain coming off of Dooku. Triple Zero had done well. There was always a threshold of pain that interfered with a Force users ability to use the Force, but it differed in each individual. And Triple Zero had excelled at keeping Dooku beyond that threshold.

And then Vader himself had reached into Dooku's scrambled mind to tear out all that he needed to make Palpatine roar with impotent rage.

The security codes for the Separatists secure comm net was his, the secret locations that during the Clone Wars would made Rex smile gleefully as he imagined how much damage could be done to the Seps, the secret accounts that only Dooku knew about...and so many other hidden secrets...

He smiled gleefully under his mask, so far everything was going according to plan.

Dooku was glaring at him, his eye unfocused by pain, but filled with hate. The other eye was a bloody and empty socket...he was scarred and mutilated now, Triple Zero had been _very_ through. And Vader hadn't seen a need to stop the murderous droid from permanently damaging Dooku.

The left eye had merely been the droid's first act. Dooku was a shadow of the man he been before. The left arm ended above the elbow. The left foot was missing, spikes ran through, front to back, his left thigh, a low electric current constantly being run through it.

“M-my master...w-will not stand f-for this,” he growled angrily, “H-he will c-come for y- _you_. A-and m-me.”

“You overestimate your value to him...and the time you have left,” Vader finished with a dark chuckle.

Dooku sneered back at him, growling angrily, “I-I... _will_...escape. And then,...y-you will pay...for e- _everything_.”

Vader was unmoved, even as the Force flared in his mind.

Images of an escaped Dooku, returned half cyborg, a red glittering eye matched with his remaining organic eye, flashed in Vader's mind's eye for a moment- but it was _only_ a moment.

He had everything he needed from Dooku. There was nothing else he needed from him.

He felt the Force shift as he reached out and without fanfare snapped Dooku's neck.

_**Crack.** _

Dooku's path ended here, there would be no more from him. This was the end. Just like Maul, his path was ended. He would not return to spite them.

Vader thought of all the times he faced off against Dooku, all the taunts, all his goading. And now...

Dooku hung bonelessly in the force field that had been his prison. Dead and gone and no longer a threat...or of use to _anyone_...

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Palpatine paused in mid-sentence for a moment before recovering flawlessly as Dooku's death echoed through the Force. It took all of his self control to not react in the middle of the Senate hearing he was overseeing as as he continued speaking about some banal thing about the taxes on some unimportant system between the mid-rim and the inner-rim. There was a war going on that he had orchestrated and yet these morons still continued to think about such unimportant and meaningless things.

Soon enough, they'd all know their place.

He finished his denial of the request and managed to put a placating, sympathetic smile on his face as he sat back down in his chair, as the Senate Chamber erupted into applause, mixed with mutterings from those that were split on the issue.

He continued fuming silently, without Dooku who would he have lead the Separatists? Grievous was needed on the frontlines, and in any case, he was a blunt instrument of war. Not the confident politician Palpatine needed as the head of the Separatist Confederacy.

And worse yet, young Skywalker was was not ready to take his place at his side yet. He mentally grimaced, soon he would be...but not yet.

War had started, and it was one damnable setback after another!

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Obi Wan Kenobi stood before the Jedi Council, the Separatists weren't being idle, a number of worlds were already under siege in the aftermath of Geonosis. The recent Hutt attacks on the Trade Federation had grabbed their attention. They had been flooded by reports of bombings, assassinations, ship raids and every other form of violence the Hutts were famous for...and could _pay_ for.

They weren't holding back anything either, from what sources the Jedi had in Hutt space, they knew that the Hutt Cartels were _all_ mobilising. The Hutts had cavernous pockets and they didn't seem to be skimping on anything at this time. A massive _unified_ Hutt military response was in the making and the Jedi did not know why.

Even if it was coming out in favour of the Republic.

Any attack on the Trade Federation weakened the Separatists. Their only qualm was that the Hutt were not concerned with collateral damage. Civilian causalities were already high and climbing with every Hutt attack.

Soon, he expected he and Anakin would be sent out against the Separatists, while a diplomatic overture would be sent to the Hutts. He expected someone much more senior than him would be sent on that mission.

The discussion at hand was circling around and around, about the Hutts' motive in all of this.

Obi-Wan was listening attentively, waiting for their command.

He felt it in the Force first, one minute Master Yoda was paying attention to the reports...and then he was staring away, his ears drooping. The old master suddenly seemed to look his age now, ancient and weary.

Master Ki-Adi-Mundi had been speaking, but he trailed off into silence as he looked at the distracted Grandmaster. The other masters shared concerned looks but remained silent, not wishing to disturb the Grandmaster's thoughts.

Master Yoda sighed deeply, “Dooku... _dead he is_. In the Force, his passing, I have felt,” he stated mournfully, “Much pain, much regret...” he trailed off shaking his head. He frowned and his eyes narrowed, “More at work here, then we can see. More turmoil in the Force I sense, the Dark Side clouds everything,” He shook his head again still greatly disturbed by this turn of events, after a moment he looked up sharply at Obi-Wan, “Ready for duty, your Padawan is?”

“Yes, Master, Anakin has been cleared by the Healers,” Obi-Wan quickly replied.

“Good. Soon, a mission we will have for both you,” Yoda stated cryptically.

Obi-Wan knew a dismissal when he heard one, “Of course Master,” he bowed deeply and left the Master Yoda and the Council to their discussions.

There was much he needed to meditate on, first and foremost, who had killed Dooku? At least Anakin would welcome this news. He would see it as good news, though whether or not it truly was good news, was something they would see in the coming days.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Triple Zero dragged away the broken remains that had been once Count Dooku of Serenno.

Vader watched silently. Contemplating his next move. He'd felt the disturbance in the Force after killing him. He'd felt time shift in the Force. They were on a new path now, his plan was truly moving forward now.

He took a deep breath, his list was getting shorter now, he would continue striking at Palpatine's lesser minions as the greater ripples spread out from here. Palpatine would know that he'd lost his apprentice. His figurehead for the Separatist Threat. He'd be reeling now, running to find another minion to replace Dooku as head of the Separatist Confederation.

And off the top of his head, there was no one that had Dooku's versatility-

“Ah so you're the one who did  _ this _ ,” a cultured, annoyed voice came from behind him, cutting off his line of thought.

Vader whorled around towards the interloping voice, his called his lightsaber to his hand, igniting it, blade pointed towards the interloper. He found himself face to face with a tall brown haired man in black robes, with a self assured smile on his lips. The man stared at him...with yellow Sith eyes. They eyes were filled with curiosity, annoyance and something that Vader didn't recognise.

The eyes flicked down to the red blade held towards him, unbothered by the threat. He pointed at the blade with a finger.

“That's not going to hurt me,” the man stated simply, before passing his pointing finger through the blade. The finger and then the whole hand passed through the blade, “I'm not really here....or rather I think I am- but I'll get to that in a moment.” The man looked away and around the room they were in, taking in the torture area that had so recently been occupied by Count Dooku, “I see you're not afraid of getting your hands dirty, it's good to see I was right about that. Not that I imagined you otherwise, everything you've done in your life paints a very clear picture of how take charge you were in life, Lord Vader.”

Vader glared at him from behind his mask, he lowered his blade and demanded, “ _Who_ are you? What do you _want_?” Whoever this Sith was, he was powerful enough to cast his image across massive distances, and how did he know his name?!

The man smiled at him without a worry in the world. He bowed with a regal flourish, “Allow me to introduce myself, I am Darth Caedus...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now canon really goes out the window!:D ;) ;P 
> 
> When this idea occurred to me, my old and original plot for this fic got thrown out the window :D 
> 
> As always, don't forget to comment! :D


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